Light into Darkness, Darkness to Light
by LadyPorpoise
Summary: The fight in Mordor was over...The Last Alliance was successful, but at what cost? Kings were slain, leaving princes to take up the crowns. One crown was not expected to be taken up again. But then again...Gil-galad was always full of surprises.


_A/N To say that I'm still alive...plus, it's strange that I wrote this to a version of Gil-galad's lament (love it though) on youtube._

* * *

Elrond sat in the tent in melancholic silence as he stared at the dead body of the king. Most of the dead remained concealed to not decay, but after some days of travel: it should be safe to start removing…armor, without the fear of insects seeking to take a bite out of an elf.

Gil-galad's face was uncovered: and for all intents and purposes, he seemed fine…although it did come off as odd seeing his expression had relaxed, when at the end of the fight, there was no peace to be found.

Maybe it started…No, it is best not to think about the gritty details.

That was the one thing Elrond hated about being a healer: he knew _way_ too much about the metabolic processes, living or dead.

The herald lowered his head and sighed. None of this felt like a victory, after seven years spent in the dark land. The loss of very important and loved figures hit harder than any joy could be found. What would become of Lindon? Of Greenwood (knowing that Thranduil and his kin left with all haste as soon as possible)? Gondor would be fine…and Elrond felt anger rise in his chest as he thought of Isildur.

Then Círdan walked in, another following behind the bearded elf. The intrusion broke Elrond out of his thoughts and he looked up. He saw the tools in their hands and knew they were for removing the breastplate that was still equipped to Gil-galad.

"Get it done, then we do not have to worry about it later," Círdan said gruffly as he gave one tool to Elrond (shoved into his hand rather).

Elrond did not reply, and he stood up stiffly as he approached the body. Only they would be allowed to do this service: Círdan to a son, and Elrond to a brother. The Herald felt bad for the elf-maid who managed to catch the king's eye at last. A royal wedding would have been one of the things to end the age on a positive note, alongside the new era of peace that would follow with Sauron's defeat.

But if Elrond knew any better, after everything he had experienced in his lifetime: life was not fair.

"You are feeling guilty over something," Círdan broke the healer's line of thought again.

Elrond blinked, pausing and the hand with the blade hovered over one side of the breastplate. "I feel like he is not avenged," he ground out. "The ring still exists, and I get a feeling we are going to pay for that in later years."

Círdan remained looking stony. "You will have to go back, raid Isildur's tent and take the trinket, and then trek all the way back to the mountain if you want to fix this. At the expense of being in men's favor, regardless if you are their first king's brother or not."

Elrond's jaw clenched at the mention of Elros, but he relaxed. He looked at Gil-galad's face. "That is not something he would have wanted…and we do owe the Númenoreans somewhat for their help in Eregion."

Círdan hummed in response and held the body still. "Well, all I can say is he has earned his rest. Envy him almost."

Elrond smirked grimly and began the work. "Tired of me already?"

"With the grief you both have given me, and being the garbage-holder, yes, I think I deserve a break too." The ancient elf huffed. "No one would miss me anyway."

"You give yourself little credit, my lord," Elrond answered as he sawed the metal away.

"That's just the Teleri way. Get used to it."

"You sound like someone else I know."

Right at the end of the sentence, the breastplate cut in two, and a sudden gasp of air sounded between them. Elrond's eyes bugged out and he nearly dropped the sharp object, Círdan stared with his mouth ajar, and the elf that followed the shipwright in ran out of the tent.

Breath, _breathing_ came from Gil-galad.

Neither of the elf lords said anything at first.

"Oh you little-" Círdan swore, his voice raised in outrage but in desperate hope at the same time. "Ereinion!"

Elrond could not believe what he was seeing, and in the end, he dropped the tool, shaking slightly from overwhelming emotions.

The miracle continued. Gil-galad breathed a few times before slowly his eyes cracked open a little. He gave a weak lopsided grin after a moment. "Took you long enough," he croaked in a whisper.

"Took-" Círdan sputtered. "You were dead!"

Gil-galad lay stiffly and his finger twitched. He took a sharp inhale, trying to catch up from being forced to breathe in small gulps of air for who knows how long. "You try getting smashed by a magic mace…Oh, did you pick up Aiglos before we left?"

Elrond was still left in shock to have any change of emotion.

Círdan gaped and then scowled. "You of all people would be more concerned about a stupid spear than the fact you were basically dead for the past _week_!"

Gil-galad frowned. "It's a special spear…" he cringed and closed his eyes again.

Cirdan lifted his hands in the air and proceeded to leave. "You don't get to be king anymore. I don't care if you have the right; you just don't get to. Elrond, get him comfortable while I get his royal highness better arrangements." An uproar then sounded outside. "See?"

"I did something right for a change…" Gil-galad mumbled in response.

Elrond snapped out of his daze, but Círdan was gone, so he could make no comment. He fumbled over his tongue and was at a lost of what to do. There was no way he could make the king more at ease without help. "C-can you stay a-awake? Y-you might not come back if…" No: no more pleasantries. He choked slightly. "How much have you heard?"

"Enough," Gil-galad's voice was starting to get tight from discomfort and obvious pain. But once more, Elrond could not do anything to alleviate that.

"But _how_? How-did the Valar send you back?" Elrond asked loudly.

Gil-galad opened one eye. "If Glorfindel's tale of Mandos is true, I never died…But I was mostly dead…"

Elrond started laughing, a bit hysterically almost. "That is not a real state of existence, my lord."

"Well, add that to the books: because I'm living evidence of it." Gil-galad sighed and moved slightly, but it was obviously hard.

Elrond sniffed slightly and pressed a hand to the king's shoulder. "Do not move. We will have you out of this soon…and stay awake."

Gil-galad did not immediately respond, and a distant look crossed his features before he frowned. "I'm going to pay for not breathing enough, am I…And why are you sad?"

Elrond's heart sank, but he remained silent for a few seconds. "We thought you were gone: the greatest of all elven kings. We…we won, but we lost at the same time." He shook his head. "You are my friend and mentor: my brother when I was bereft of everything held dear to me. To have that taken away again…" He trailed off.

Gil-galad looked at the elf with some pity. "You would have Celebrían…and the children would fill that hole…" the words were coming out slowly and strained. "Doesn't answer my other question."

Elrond again snapped out of his emotional turmoil and moved to the head of the king. He raised both eyelids a bit more. They were cloudy and certainly not focused, not as well as they were. The sadness returned. "Nothing may happen. You might… _will_ heal."

Gil-galad huffed some air that was meant to be a laugh, but it failed. "I'm soul spent, Elrond…consider this another overpowering the physical body with my soul, just this once, before I go…elsewhere."

Elrond frowned but knew it was true. "There is no shame in wishing to sail after this, my friend. You have suffered enough."

"Oh, heaven's no-I'm not done here yet, even if I'm an invalid…I have to make Círdan happy by getting married finally…get an heir…continue to break the record…"

Elrond placed his hand on Gil-galad's forehead as the king started to ramble. Silence ensued again as Gil-galad caught his breath, and Elrond thought he drifted from the land of waking at last.

But Gil-galad surprised him again and opened his eyes again. This time with more clarity than before. "Swear to me, Elrond: even if my mind is lost, let me live a full life on this side of the sea until my child comes of age where they can rule. Swear also you will keep the kingdom together. The council can rule…but they need a figurehead…the queen would need help…"

Elrond was at a loss for words and was stunned by the audacity that Gil-galad's soul expressed. The stare penetrated his own spirit, and Elrond finally nodded. "I swear."

Gil-galad nodded subtly but was not done yet. "One last thing…Be happy, Elrond…find that peace and bliss…And you are not to try: you are to _do_ , you understand?"

Elrond's brows furrowed together and realized that this may very well be the true farewell. He nodded again. "Yes, my lord and king." He uttered, and he knelt in reverence.

The king now seemed satisfied, and he sighed heavily before he let himself fall into darkness,

Elrond sat there, returning to his state of shock, of relief, sadness, joy…hope? So much happened so fast…and that his brother-at-heart was still alive…still the sarcastic and unconcerned over his own state of being person. Though that may have disappeared.

No…it did not disappear. Will not disappear. Elrond's steeled his composure and looked seriously at the king. "You will not be left trapped by the enemy's doing," he vowed. "You will be restored to full glory."

The healer did not notice nor hear Círdan as a small group of elves came back finally to transport Gil-galad away from the place of the dead.

Perhaps this age would end on a positive note after all

* * *

He did not lose his mind.

But the wound Sauron inflicted did not leave Gil-galad unscathed.

The battle-scarred king remained in a perpetual state of soul-weariness, which manifested into severe lethargy after some time passed. Elrond was quick to guess that the wound put a block on Gil-galad healing and with that discovery, the half-elf began researching ways to remove it, having the blood of the Maiar in him.

It did not happen yet, but Elrond still tried.

Gil-galad did wed (which he had to order every ranking official to not panic about the possible chance that he could fall over during the ceremony), as did Elrond to his own silver-queen. And life was happy, even despite the fact the king was indisposed-just by being tired all the time.

One day found Elrond next to Gil-galad holding up his wrist. The dark-haired queen, six months pregnant, watched with anticipation that perhaps this time her husband would be free from this curse.

Vilya pulsed against Elrond's finger and the healer's face was stern in concentration. The dark tendril that resided in the king was just out of reach…he went for it.

Elrond exhaled deeply in weariness and Gil-galad growled as this attempt failed. Elrond regained himself and look up at the queen, and she looked a little disappointed, but she inclined her head in thanks.

"Not today it seems," the healer lowered Gil-galad's hand back to the sheet again. "But its promising. We are close."

"Get too it then," huffed the king. He held a hand out in the direction of his lady. "I need-"

"I know," the queen answered and came to the bedside.

"You are coming along well, my lady," Elrond commented with a smile.

Gil-galad was appeased and he closed his eyes. The queen gave a smile in return. "I can feel the life growing…they have the aura of their sire."

"Good," Gil-galad spoke up, stubbornly refusing to let the exhaustion win. "There needs to be more of me."

Elrond smirked. Even though the lasting effects were a cause to be sad, the overtiredness was amusing at times. "I expect this curse to be removed before your child is born, my lord."

"That's why I said get to it." Gil-galad reminded in a fake warning tone. He slapped Elrond away at the hand, "Get."

Elrond retreated and stood up. He bowed respectfully to the royal couple and started to walk out. On the way, he smiled slightly.

Things were looking up finally.

* * *

 _...Did I mention this was an AU?  
_

 _And I'm not as detailed when it comes to injuries like I normally am, because that would have taken away some of the lightness in this story. Basically my thought when I came up with the idea: "...Gil-galad coming back to life like "SURPRISE!", and Cirdan going: "YOU LITTLE BUGGER!"". I did do the ending which was supposed to be the medical aspect of this...but the original idea also would have been a little sad. So, hopefully this stayed light._


End file.
